


colder

by drmsqnc



Series: reverse!dbh [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 21:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drmsqnc/pseuds/drmsqnc
Summary: self preservation waved goodbye long ago





	colder

“hank.” 

the hunter’s expression is anything but warm. it tightens along with his grip on his drink, long fingers flexing along the rim of the plastic. you glance down at the movement, glimpsing an array of bandaged knuckles. 

“yes. hank. he sent me to deliver a message.” you cross your arms, settling your weight onto one leg. 

“right.” he says. “not interested.”

your sugary expression drops flat.

“listen,” you monotone, eyes hard with discontent. “i’m not interested in your petty little drama. you’re needed outside - either get to it or don’t.”

connor clicks his tongue. his eyes sweep up, clear, intense, and then he’s looking, really  _looking_  at you, as though it’s the very first time. as though beforehand you were nowhere near interesting enough for him to even really acknowledge.

you bristle.  

he follows the twitch of your brow with amusement. “no thanks.” his fingers brush past his jaw and down his collarbone, loosening his tie with a slow, deliberate tug. “goodbye now.”

your eyes narrow into slits. “so that’s it huh? the great deviant hunter. scared by an android.”

the air thickens.

“what?”

“you heard me,” you shrug. “it’s disappointing, is all.”

you can feel the breath in his lungs, see the tension build and ripple across his body. he is an animal–a beast held under the biting chains of societal moral conduct and you envision stretching out your hand, watching the abrupt snap of his teeth.

“this is a waste of time.” connor says. there’s something else in his voice now, a creeping darkness. “go.”  

you meet his stare head on. 

“or what?”

for just a moment, everything goes silent. all but you and him stills and fades–the club’s deep bass of noise, the heat and the sweat–disappearing to a white buzz somewhere in the back of your skull. he smiles. 

then it all floods back, the sensations slamming wild and screeching in your gut as your back hits the counter.

“two days _,_ ” he says–and he’s  _right there,_  hand squeezed tightly around your wrist. you gasp, free hand flying up in shock and shoving into his chest. his grin is all teeth, half mad. “two days ago, a  _deviant_ pushed me through a glass window.” 

your pulse flutters rapidly against the hard press of his thumb. he’s tall–too tall, taller than you thought–crowding you fervid and looming against the smooth marble. “it turned and stabbed me. right there, in fact.” it takes you more than a few seconds to register his words, but when you do, you freeze, jerking back the hand that had been pushing at him. he cocks his head, features swimming crimson under the coloured lights. “i needed stitches, you know. you’ve probably bothered them.”

you don’t tremble. the counter is cold, freezing against your hot skin and his pitch black eyes are bruised _bruised_ as though he hasn’t slept a day in his life, but you don’t tremble, you don’t dig your nails into your palm and you  _don’t_ trap a whimper in your throat. 

“it stabbed me.” he laughs.“so i shot a bullet right through it’s skull.” 

just as it begins, it’s over. 

he drops your wrist like it’s on fire, stumbling back. various emotions flash over his face, inscrutable, before he relaxes suddenly, goes lax like a puppet cut off strings. 

“so no,” he blinks. “i don’t particularly want to see hankright now. or any android at the moment.” 

the fabric of your shirt twists in your grip.

he frowns, humming.

“i’m not sure i have the self control.” 


End file.
